


Lion's Pride

by lilacSkye



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, Fluff, Mentions of blood and gore, Missing Scene, Not really OC - Freeform, it's just that they neglected to give the guy a name so I did, kind of, let me know if I'm forgetting something, not really - Freeform, unhealthy coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 19:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21433663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacSkye/pseuds/lilacSkye
Summary: Before setting out towards Enbarr, there's still someone he must confront.Spoilers for AM, chapter 21.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & My Unit | Byleth, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 5
Kudos: 85





	Lion's Pride

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I have three ongoing fics that require my attention. I should probably work on them.
> 
> My brain: _DIMILETH! DIMILETH!_
> 
> And Dimileth it is. Although it's pretty late in the fic lol
> 
> I wrote half of this in a day while waiting my train to courteously get moving already, so it's probably very bad lol also, extremely lame title cause I didn't know what to call it.

Down here, far below the monastery, the stink of mould was unbearable. Cold drafts bit viciously into the flesh like a rabid dog, utterly unbothered by the flimsy heat wafting from the flickering torches that lined up the long and narrow corridors.

Despite the heavy, fur-lined cape cascading down his shoulders, so long and ill-fitting that the hem brushes against the filthy raw stone floor, Dimitri shivered.

The voices taunted him at every step. They screeched and cried, they claimed for blood, for vengeance to be delivered _at last_ now that the responsibles were finally at hand, to let them taste the agony the dead had been suffering all these years…

Because that was all Dimitri was good for, they sneered. All he could ever hope to accomplish. Kill, and kill, and _kill_ again and again and _again_, until blue and gold were drowned in red and he couldn't tell whether the blood sticking to him like a second skin belonged to his enemies or was his own.

His hand tightened over Areadbhar's shaft, slamming the blunt end of the lance against the floor, a dull thud echoing his every step. It reminded him of Father, and his heart somewhat leaped at the idea of walking alongside Father once again, to be worthy of him, to make him proud, as he had so desperately longed to before the world collapsed on him that fateful day in Duscur, and he was left adrift in the darkness.

He forcibly pushed the thought away, as Father laughed derisively in his ear. Foolish, for Father was _always_ by his side, the only light in the bloody haze, and if Dimitri really wanted to make him proud he'd take Areadbhar and embed it all the way to the shaft into that man's <strike>murderer, beast, monster</strike> chest, carve his heart out and crush it into Dimitri's palm like he would an orange, and watch as the monster fell, body twitching as life finally fled his mortal coil…

Dimitri heaved a deep breath. He must not fail. Not now, not after all he'd been through.

Not after what _she_ had done for him, after she had believed in him when nobody else - himself included - would. Betraying that trust she had so blindly placed in him would be nothing short of stabbing her in the back. He'd rather die a most painful death than to fail her now.

At last, the cell he had been looking for appeared, the only one which had a couple of guards stationed at each side of the rusty, but surprisingly still functional, barred door.

Not that it was necessary; its inhabitant didn't seem too eager to escape to begin with.

The two guards greeted Dimitri with youthful enthusiasm, tripping all over themselves in an effort to be of use to the young future king. It would be an endearing sight, were it not for the task looming ahead of him, for the tendrils of darkness that reached out of the dungeon cell and gripped him, coiled around his limbs, around his neck and _Sothis_, he couldn't do it, he was choking, drowning into the pitch black and crimson red pulling him in-

_Stay focused_, She spoke in his mind, cool and collected and louder than them all.

He dismissed the two guards without a smile. The two young men - barely older than kids, Dimitri realized with a painful twinge - looked vaguely saddened to be so unceremoniously waved off, but neither was foolish enough to disobey a direct order of the king. They opened the door for him, relinquished the key in his care so that he may lock it back up once he was done, and quickly scampered away.

At last, he was alone.

_They_ were alone.

Despite the chair and small table that had been courteously provided to him under Byleth's suggestion, the lone prisoner was sitting on the bare floor at the very back of the cell. A knee pulled up against his chest and both arms loosely coiled around it, the man was leaning forward, hiding his face in the narrow space between his knee and arms, exposing only his short and unkempt mop of mousy brown hair to Dimitri's eye. It was a defeated posture, the position of a man who had long given up on himself and was simply waiting for his sins to be punished.

Dimitri would know. He had been in the exact same position, both literally and figuratively, not until long ago.

Wordlessly, Dimitri entered the cell and slammed the door closed behind his back. The man inside didn't move in the slightest.

Once the sound of metal on metal rippling through the empty corridors of the dungeon finally faded, a heavy silence stretched in between the two men.

Dimitri approached with slow, heavy steps. A pang of cruel satisfaction seared through him when he saw the slightest tremor quake older man's entire form, his body coiling even tighter in itself, protectively.

The nape of his neck was more exposed than ever. All it would take was a single slash and-

Dimitri raised Areadbhar. The relic's sacred blade cast a bloodied glow into the cell like a dying sun.

_One blow._ Glenn whispered. _A clean kill. Don't hesitate, and the blade will always strike true._

He never quite grasped what Glenn had meant by that. How was it possible to show no hesitation, when a life was at stake?

His could feel his hand tremble. The weight of the lance was unbearable, sapping all of his strength like a leech.

The man still didn't move an inch, patiently waiting for his execution.

Finally, Dimitri lowered the weapon.

And leaned it against the nearest wall.

_That_ made the prisoner move. His head shot up straight, little eyes now blown wide in shock and disbelief. Dark, purple marks drew circles beneath his eyelids, the touch of a curse that Dimitri knew all too well.

"I did not come here to kill you." Dimitri said flatly. He reached for the lone chair sitting at the table and pulled it across the floor to place it in front of the prisoner. He let himself crash heavily down on it. "What is your name?"

The man flinched harshly, as though Dimitri had just struck him.

"_Why?_"

Dimitri scoffed darkly. Why, indeed. He did not know himself.

Maybe because he needed to hear the truth, _his_ truth. Maybe because he felt a strange kinship for this man, his sworn enemy, who had so readily and thoroughly relinquished his life, seeking death at the hand of another.

Maybe because he was _tired_ of killing, of wading rivers of blood with every step he took.

"That's not your business," he snarled, crossing his arms tightly. "Your name."

The man studied him warily, face gaunt and pale. It was painfully obvious this encounter was taking a wildly different turn than he'd first anticipated.

"...Stephan."

"Stephan." Dimitri repeated slowly, savoring the name like one would taste a fine dessert. He thought he might have had an ancestor going by the same name. "A fine name indeed."

The man, Stephan, did not heed his comment.

"If not to kill me, then why are you here, Your Majesty?"

It was Dimitri's turn to flinch.

"_Don't_," Dimitri barked, fury tinging the periphery of his vision red. He clenched his hands around his biceps and squeezed tight until it hurt and his arms grew numb from the lack of blood, lest he reached out for the man's neck and snapped it like a twig. "Don't-Don't you _dare_ call me that."

A let out a shaky breath, a meager attempt to retain some calm. He couldn't even explain precisely why hearing the man call him by the title that had been his father's had upset him so much, a title that had belonged to the man this farmer had mercilessly slaughtered.

He had no _right_ to even mention Lambert's name, even in passing. _No one_ did.

Stephan ducked his head in understanding. "Of course. My apologies."

They fell silent, Dimitri breathing heavily, fine tremors shaking him all the way to the marrow if his bones, feverish, Stephan quiet and still like a corpse. Dimitri caught him steal a glance to Areadbhar, as though wondering how long it would be until Dimitri dropped the fancy pretenses and simply chopped his head off.

Surprisingly enough, that was what helped Dimitri regain some form of rationality. He was not going to give him the satisfaction to fall into a frenzy and kill him in his stead.

"Very well," he said, swallowing thickly. "I have something to ask you. I only request you to answer honestly."

"I have already told you everything I know of the Tragedy of Duscur. Nonetheless I will answer at the best of my abilities."

Dimitri hummed. His mouth felt dry as he stood up abruptly, sending the chair toppling down, and took to pace around the small cell like a caged, famished lion. His long legs carried him across the whole cage in only a few strides. Stephan still sat on the floor, slumped forward, unmoving were it not for his eyes that followed Dimitri's every movement, full of what looked like pity and guilt.

"Well, then. I just need you to tell me one thing."

He stopped in front of the man. He positively towered over him; Stephan had to crane his neck to make eye contact.

"Was it worth it?"

Silence. But the anguish etched into the man's weary features was answer enough for Dimitri.

"No." Stephan said with a defeated exhale. Dimitri watched as the older man lifted his shaking hands to his face, as though expecting to see them drenched in blood. "It was not. I regretted ever agreeing to it since that day. Even now, this very moment, I regret it. At the time it might have felt like an atrocious act for a just cause, but I now know better. True justice does not require blood."

Dimitri scoffed again, though less in derision and more self depreciation. Rodrigue had to die to hammer that lesson in his mind.

"And yet here you come, appear in front of me, claiming to be part of the conspiration, knowing full well how I-" _what he was_ Dimitri thought bitterly. "Knowing how I felt on the matter. It feels like you're _asking_ for justice to be served to you, in the form of death."

Stephan grimaced visibly, his head hanging low. A sudden surge of pain twisted Dimitri's heart, stabbing and searing like a knife carving through flesh. A flash of sympathy for the shadow of a man crumbling to pieces before him.

No, not sympathy. Pity.

"No more," Stephan choked out. He raised his trembling hands to clutch at the sides of his head, pressing on his ears as his farmwork-hardened fingers threaded through his hair, fisting tightly into the light brown strands. "I cannot take any more of this. Make it stop. Make _them_ stop."

Ah, so Dimitri's suspicions _were_ indeed correct.

After all, it took a wretch to know one.

"You see _them_ too, don't you?"

In the back of his mind, Glenn chuckled evilly, Lambert scoffed haughtily. They were always there, always watching, always judging. Always begging him to take his weapon and carry out the execution they were due.

Stephan nodded slowly.

"Every night… there hasn't been a night since that dreadful day I haven't seen them. _Heard_ them. I see them dying, I hear them scream as they fall, dropping dead like flies as the flames feast on their bodies… they beg for mercy…"

Dimitri's hands curled into fists. He didn't need Areadbhar, after all, all he had to do was grab the man's neck and relish in the feeling of bones snapping and splintering, of the spasms wracking through the man's body before if fell limp and…

And what? What after that? Even if Dimitri killed this man, here and now, what would that accomplish? This was something the ghosts of the past never disclosed to him.

"The screams of a child as he watched his father's head roll on the ground, in a puddle of blood." Stephan went on with a tiny, quivering voice. His eyes were glazed, unfocused, lost in the past. "For nine years I've endured this torture, and now I can't take it any longer. I've come here, before you, to confess to my crimes to the one survivor of that tragedy. I surrender my life to you, last living heir to the throne. You may do with it as you see fit. If it's at your hands, I do not mind death."

He raised his head. Dimitri could see the resignation etched in every line on his face. He truly was ready to forfeit his life. He even welcomed the very thought.

It would be so _easy_, Lambert whispered. The man was so willing to let go of this life he stained beyond repair, felling him would hardly be considered a sin. In fact, Dimitri would probably appear to him like a savior, someone who was sent to free him from his long lasting mortal shackles.

His insides twisted. Nearby, as though reacting to its master's inner turmoil, Areadbhar flashed.

"No."

His heart pounded madly against his ribcage, his blood roared in his ears, drowning off the outraged screams in his head. The man blinked, confused.

"What?"

Dimitri took a deep breath and, not without some effort, unwound his arms and uncoiled his fists, letting them to fall limply along his side. His fingers twitched, uncomfortable when not wrapped around a weapon, when not poised to kill.

"Do you have any family?"

Stephan gaped.

"I… a wife and a daughter. But I don't-"

"How old is your daughter?"

"F-fourteen, sir. But I don't see what does that have anything to do with it. She's innocent, milord," Stephan added urgently, suddenly panic-stricken as he hastily scrambled to a kneeling position before Dimitri, hands folding together as though in prayer. "Please, I beg of you, the fault is all mine and mine alone, punish _me_ as much as you want, but please, _please_ spare my family, they had no part in this-"

It was a painful plea to listen to, tears now streaming down the man's face, the same man who was so calm and accepting of death for himself now falling apart at the thought of his family being hurt for what he'd done, kneeling and crawling like a worm in front of Dimitri.

Had Lambert begged for Dimitri's life to be spared, too? Had he pleaded with his assailants, surrendering his life so Dimitri's could be saved?

Was that why Dimitri had lived, despite the odds? His entire family and closest friends he loved as siblings slaughtered like cattle, and he alone living, left behind and abandoned by all but lingering ghosts, but the bitter taste of regret poisoning the tip of his unfeeling tongue.

And this man had the _gall_ to come waltzing in here, asking for a merciful death...

Frowning, he took a step back, repulsed.

"You're disgusting," he spat.

"Milord-"

"You have a family, a young daughter who needs you, who needs your guidance and support. And yet you dare leave her behind to selfishly seek death under the guise of a noble sacrifice." Dimitri turned his back on the older man, unable to tolerate the sight anymore. It wouldn't do if he let his flaring temper get the best of him and ended up beating him up to a bloody pulp. "You are _choosing_ to abandon her. Have you even stop to consider how she would feel? Of the situation you'd leave your family in? Of the despair you'd plunge them into, of the regrets you'd leave them with? No, of course not. You're too haunted, too caught up within yourself to see how your actions would affect the ones around you, those who would always love you regardless."

The hypocrisy of it all tugged at the corners of his lips, pulling it into a dark smirk. Was he really still talking about Stephan, or about himself?

He spun on his heels once again, facing the older man. With a swift, fluid movement Stephan's untrained eyes could not follow, he bent down and grabbed at the collar of the man's ragged shirt. A soft blue glow washed over the small cell like a wave, and with the aid of his Crest Dimitri forcibly pulled the other man up to his feet. Stephan's eyes were blown wide in shock and a tinge of fear as Dimitri leaned in, so close he could feel his hot and shallow breath hit his face.

"You beg for death, and yet you welcome the release it brings forth." He growled, "No. You will serve your punishment properly: you will live the rest of your days with what you've done. You will take responsibility for the lives you took and set out to live the life those who died at your hand lost."

He shoved Stephan away. The man let out a choked gasp, stumbling backwards until he hit the wall behind him.

"That's the punishment I sentence you to. But it will not be me the one to carry it."

He walked away and grabbed Areadbhar. The weapon throbbed in his grasp as he made his way back to the cell's door. He unlocked it and pushed it open, but then hesitated.

"I will order you be released by sunrise. May you never get into my sight ever again."

"_Your Majesty…!!_"

Dimitri turned; Stephan had once again fallen to his knees, seemingly unable to keep himself upright. Tears drew two twin lines across his reddened cheeks. His face was twisted in raw agony, a quite unusual response from someone who was essentially acquitted for his crimes.

Then again, Dimitri knew all too well how much far worse than death was the fate he'd just condemned him to. The same fate, the same agonizing path Dimitri himself had set on, treading carefully on the long and hazardous road. Whether he slipped and fell to his demise, only time would be able to tell.

He stepped out the cell and slammed it close behind him.

* * *

"I know you're there."

Byleth started violently in the small alcove in the wall she was hidden in. She had been careful to keep extremely quiet as a shadow as she followed Dimitri out of the dungeons.

She peeked out of the archway, her shoulders slumping in defeat when she found him staring back unflinchingly at her. She stepped out of her hiding place.

"You've improved. How did you know I was there?"

A mirthless smirk pulled the corner of his mouth upwards.

"I'm quite talented at sensing lingering presences, Professor."

"And at being a bit overdramatic." She countered flatly, closing the distance between them. He barked out a short, raspy bout of laughter, to which she couldn't help but offer her own smile despite the pain that had blossomed through her chest.

"Perhaps, just a touch," he said, dark amusement causing his eye to glint in the dim torchlight like a sapphire. Then, quick like the moon disappeared beyond a cloud during a winter night, his smile faded, replaced by a resigned expression. "You heard it all, didn't you?"

Seeing no point in lying, Byleth nodded.

"Gilbert warned me you planned to visit our prisoner in private. I wanted to personally oversee how it went down."

Dimitri's eye left her face and trailed down along her side, lingering on the Sword of the Creator strapped to her waist, its glow matching Areadbhar's.

"In case you needed to stop me."

Byleth wished with all her might she could deny it, but she had vowed to always be honest with Dimitri, and lead him along the right path. She stood silent, enough for Dimitri to correctly guess the meaning of her reticence. Her unbeating heart felt like it was about to split cleanly in half as his face fell, clouded in shame.

"I see. I don't blame you for being wary of me. I… for a moment I truly wanted to kill him."

Byleth moved before she could think twice: she lunged and grabbed his Areadbhar-free hand, squeezing tightly his gauntleted fingers until she could feel the dark steel bite into her skin, carve red welts into the meat of her palm. Startled, he tried to take it away, but she didn't let go.

"But you _didn't_."

He stood silent, his eye scrunching close and his mouth twisting in pain. Byleth closed in, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing off the wispy ends of his hair and the lower hem of his eyepatch. He leaned into her touch instantly.

"What you did in there was incredible, Dimitri. It's a feat, a form of bravery and strength not everyone can boast about. Even an animal can bring itself to kill, but it takes a human to choose not to."

"You make it sound a lot more impressive than it is," he groaned weakly. He swept an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in an embrace, which she happily allowed. She smiled as he cradled her gently in his arms, her cheek squished against his chest, and nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck. "I'm not sure I did him any favor. Death would be much preferable to this hell."

He was trembling. She wrapped her arms around his waist - for his impressive build and height, he was still far too thin around his waistline - and squeezed, pulled him even closer.

"He'll have to endure it. Like you are. Like all of us are."

He smiled, although somewhat forlornly. They stayed like that, a tightly coiled bundle of entwining limbs, silently basking in each other's presence, for a long minute.

Then, at last, Dimitri pulled away, delicately disentangling himself from her grasp. Byleth nearly pouted at the sudden loss of contact and warmth, but let him go nonetheless. He needed his space, and she would never deny him that.

"Thank you, Professor. I needed it. Now we should perhaps start moving out of here before hypothermia catches up to us."

Ah, the ghost of a joke. He'd never been quite good with jests, but Byleth could sense it. As well as the attempt to veer off the conversation, perhaps out of embarrassment. Dimitri had been, after all, extremely bashful during his Academy days. He could handle anything on a battlefield, but once out of it he would be hard pressed not to find reasons to stumble on his words. It was endearing then just as it was now, although much more subdued.

But as Dimitri moved, Byleth stayed firmly rooted to the spot.

"Dimitri."

He turned, surprised to see her still so far behind.

"Yes, Professor?"

Their eyes met, icy blue against jade green, and suddenly Byleth didn't know what to say, because there were simply no words to describe the twists and flips her still heart did whenever their hands touched, the uncomfortable feeling of falling like someone just tripped her whenever he smiled at her, that satisfied tingle coursing throughout her whole body whenever she caught him laughing and chatting with the rest of the Blue Lions.

For now, she could only settled on-

"I'm proud of you. Of how far you've come. Of the man you've finally turned into."

The way his eye widened and his cheeks instantly flared crimson was simply adorable.

"Oh! I-well-er…" he stuttered, carefully avoiding eye contact. "T-Thank you, I… guess?"

Byleth smiled. Another set of words came to mind, three little words bearing such a massive meaning she was not sure she understood it all herself. They pressed at the inside of her lips, knocking more and more insistently with every little moment she and Dimitri stole for themselves, begging to be free.

_I love you._

But not today, not with the ghosts lingering behind the corner, not with emperors wearing crowns of flames waiting ahead.

Maybe one day, when the time was right.

And Byleth, if she said so herself, was quite an expert on timing things just right.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow it turned really mushy at the end lol forgive me, I'm such a sucker for these two supporting each other, I just couldn't help myself
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
